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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204352">History</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/pseuds/jenni3penny'>jenni3penny</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCIS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:22:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,466</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/pseuds/jenni3penny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The question was "Hey, what if Jack had been in Jenny's shoes? What if Jack had replaced her? Or replaced Hollis?".</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You know what they say about cowboys?" she teased from above him, the subtly sensual hum of her voice so familiar but distant to him at once.</p>
<p>"You gotta be kiddin' me," he muttered to himself, letting Nick take the camera from him as they both shifted uneasy stances in the waterlogged sand.</p>
<p>Hell… he'd already spent an hour that morning slogged down as the tide tried to pull away what was left of their dessicated victim. Karma might as well drop one of his exes on him like a goddamn house too.</p>
<p>"I know you're damn well gonna tell me," he tossed over his shoulder, noting the look Nick gave him just before taking another photo to pretend that he was distracted.</p>
<p>"Wholesome girls should never trust the same one twice."</p>
<p>"Wholesome?" He rolled his eyes as Torres snorted to himself, head half turned to hear her answer from up on the dock.</p>
<p>"I coulda been."</p>
<p>"Some time ago, maybe," Gibbs acquiesced, leaning out from under the wooden dock and up, stretching as he studied her in sunlight. She was completely backlit, face unreadable. He knew that voice and body well, though. Even if it was covered by well fitting jeans, a pale button down and a CID vest. She was still in combat boots, God love her. Her hair was back in a tight ponytail that stole something away from her inherent beauty, made her look more severe.</p>
<p>He frowned and cursed the fact she had the high ground. There was no graceful way back up the dock. "I don't think that's what they really say about cowboys."</p>
<p>She squinted over him, offering her hand down and nodding once, her smile so deliciously bright that the sun was probably jealous. Goddamn, she was <em>still</em> gorgeous. "Some time ago, huh?"</p>
<p>Gibbs put his palm to hers and enjoyed the steady pull she gave him, right boot forward to brace on the dock as she helped him step back up onto it. It was nice to feel the flex in her wrist, the tension in her forearm, to recognize the sustained strength that she obviously hadn't lost.</p>
<p>He flexed his arm just as tightly, drawing her forward and forcing her left foot to rise and step into him. He just barely slapped back the urge to wink at her. "Hey, Sloane."</p>
<p>She smelled the same. And his whole body knew it, recognized it, <em>craved</em> it.</p>
<p>"Hey yourself." She felt good against him, her smaller frame pulled up taut as she gave him a smile. She had aged beautifully, gentle laugh lines bunched in the corners of her eyes as she grinned. "It's been a long time."</p>
<p>Leave it to her to be so happily amused by them seeing each other again, her pure pleasure flushing her cheeks slightly. She had always been charming and spirited. It didn't surprise him that she seemed so genuinely pleased to be pressed up close to him again.</p>
<p>"Not my choice," he murmured as he released her hand, lowering it before he stepped back and offered Torres some help. The younger man waved him off, half upward stumbling up the wet sandbank and toward the parked truck. He wasn’t sure if Nick was trying to offer them some privacy or if he was just getting out of Dodge but either way he appreciated not having the extra pair of eyes on him. Bishop was already gawking from the other end of the dock. There’d be no end to her questioning, her interest. That kid had the Curiosity problem of a wayward cat and barely any sense of self preservation, especially when it came to sticking her nose into his personal life.</p>
<p>"Can't you just say hello and be sweet and mean it, Gibbs?"<em> Be sweet</em>? Maybe it wasn’t just that easy...</p>
<p>"I always mean it,” he softened, purposely exhaling and relaxing his shoulders to put her at ease. He knew Sloane well enough to subconsciously mark the physical signs of her fight mode. Her shoulders were back, jaw up and tight, eyes gone dark and glittered hard. "What's CID here for? Vacation?"</p>
<p>She slanted him a droll look, brow up and her whole body still tensed up. "Cute."</p>
<p>"Why're you in Virginia, Jack?"</p>
<p>"My jurisdiction," she shrugged off, her shoulders lowering too as the tension between them seemed to ease.</p>
<p>"Yours, huh?" He simply nodded toward the end of the dock, where their victim had been rope tied to the thick and sturdy wooden pylons. "That's a Marine."</p>
<p>"And this is Langley-Eustis," she slapped back, pulling sunglasses out of, well, he didn’t even know where. He just knew that as soon as she put them on he lost half his ability to read her. She had the most beautiful eyes, extraordinarily expressive at times. He had been reading them by their color - now he was screwed. "Which you <em>knew</em> when you started your investigation."</p>
<p>"Figured it would be Simmons. He doesn't usually mind my help."</p>
<p>"Is that what it is? <em>Help</em>?" Her hand shot out against his chest and gave a shove, just barely enough to move him but more than enough to let her stroke her fingers down his chest after the fact. That first unnecessary touch… He’d been trying to decide who would reach forward first, knowing it would likely be her. "Stop smirking at me."</p>
<p>He certainly didn’t need to see her eyes to hear the hot haze of flirtation in her voice.<br/>Whether he trusted it or not was a completely different story. “How long have you been back?”</p>
<p>"Three months."</p>
<p>He squinted at her answer, tipping his head into studying her hair to distract himself from her answer. He instantly knew she was self conscious about it being back because her fingers lifted to rub along her neck and he felt his smile starten to deepen a little. She was flushed pink along her collarbone, at her throat, and he sure as hell wasn’t the only one remembering his mouth on her skin. Obviously. "Stop it."</p>
<p>Maybe he trusted it just enough. She wasn’t one to try and flush or blush on cue, couldn’t do it. She was far too honest and genuine a woman for faking feelings or emotions, usually. Not with people she cared about.</p>
<p>"Leon know you're here?" He watched her features fall flat after he’d asked and it brought a dry laugh up from his lungs, a derisive sound. Gibbs just shook his head as he looked out over the marshy bank. "<em>Really</em>, Jacqueline?"</p>
<p>"I didn't know what to say to you." <em>That</em>… that had been the most honest thing she’d said to<br/>him in eight years. That self conscious and worried whisper had spoken volumes.</p>
<p>He looked away and caught his team, along with Palmer, patiently crowded at the end of the dock. McGee was supposedly fiddling with his phone, unaware, while Torres blatantly just watched them, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Ellie was the one that looked like she was going to strain something by trying to hear what they were saying.</p>
<p>He took a little pity on her and lifted his voice as he waved Jimmy forward, "Let Palmer down there and I'll forgive ya."</p>
<p>"You were gonna forgive me anyhow,” she shrugged, waving the younger man forward as she moved up the dock, “Hey, Jimmy!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>"So… your friend seemed nice," Ellie offered from behind the driver’s seat, her words coming out as more of a question than a statement.</p>
<p>He had hoped to avoid an interrogation from the younger members of his team, considering the fact that he had purposely given Tim the keys to the Suburban and gotten into the passenger seat himself. That had obviously been a pipe dream but he stared ahead anyhow, watching the back of the medical examiner’s van with a sudden supposed interest.</p>
<p>“She’s gonna lean on Vance to try and take the case,” Tim said softly from beside him, his focus on the vehicle in front of them but his hands showing slight agitation. He kept squeezing his fingers on the steering wheel and then loosening them up before doing it all over again. Gibbs half watched the fidget in his peripheral, breathing in through his nose and hearing how thunderously <em>silent</em> it had gone from the back seat.</p>
<p>“I don't doubt it’ll work,” he agreed gently, renewing his watch on the back of the van. “Get Palmer started as soon as we’re back. I want him half finished before she even gets in the building.”</p>
<p>“She’s <em>got</em> jurisdiction, Boss.”</p>
<p>“I’m aware," Gibbs admitted, feeling the frown weigh him down heavier as Tim’s hands went tight again. He shifted in the seat to counter the feeling, straightening the way he was sitting. He could feel his other two agents staring at him from the back, their combined silence looming up over his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Did you know she was back?” McGee’s question was purposely lowered, intentionally barely there. He didn’t answer. There wasn’t an answer that he was willing to share within the confines of the government vehicle. “Got it.”</p>
<p>It wasn’t anyone’s business.</p>
<p>“Is she not nice?” Ellie finally asked after a moment, her words careful. “Or not a friend?”</p>
<p>McGee’s shake of the head was even faster than his own and he turned a glance over his senior agent, brow arched as the younger man answered with “She’s one of the kindest women I’ve ever met.”</p>
<p>Hell, he couldn’t fault the younger man for his answer... It wasn’t necessarily wrong.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No,” Tim minced out as her hand went for the emergency stop switch in the elevator. “Don’t. I’m not comfortable discussing - ”</p>
<p>“Gibbs and Agent Sloane,” Bishop interrupted as she completely ignored his attempt at being her senior agent and flicked the switch, throwing the elevator into jerked stillness. “Go.”</p>
<p>He flexed his jaw tighter than it already had been, studying his teammate in the half shadows and macabre lighting of the stalled elevator. He momentarily considered how often they pulled this trick and started trying to run the math on how many more times they could jam the car up between floors without some sort of serious malfunction.</p>
<p>It wasn’t looking good. He had no doubt that he was going to end up stuck at some point.</p>
<p>“<em>Earth to Tim</em>?”</p>
<p>“No, Ellie,” he answered, meeting her interested glance with an unintentional frown. “I can’t… I wanna respect their privacy. Jack’s one of the good ones. I don’t want it messed up.”</p>
<p>“Yeah? Is she, though?” she asked with a squint before her lips pressed together. She seemed to be more aggressive than he had expected and he considered it a moment as she hawkishly watched him. Her persistent loyalty to Gibbs had her very obviously attentive, energetic in her research. She wasn’t just interested in Sloane out of curiosity - she was in full defensive mode. This was a fact finding mission and he was her now inescapable target.</p>
<p>“You saw the way Jimmy reacted to her. You think Jimmy hugs everyone that way?”</p>
<p>“I think Jimmy is a nicer person than most. He sees the good in everyone,” Bishop allowed, shrugging once after saying it. “But I saw the way you reacted to her too, Tim. Like you were… concerned.”</p>
<p>“Listen… They’re good together - but they have to both be ready. And <em>who knows</em> when that’s gonna happen.” He didn't remember all that much about Sloane when it came to small details - but he did remember how… <em>human</em> she had always made Gibbs seem whenever she was around. They had near instantly been next level, they'd adored each other. And then eight or nine months later she had just been gone and everything had gone so sadly quiet for awhile. “Until it happens, we’ve just gotta let them be them.”</p>
<p>It likely <em>was</em> going to happen. He didn't really doubt that. It was just a matter of when.</p>
<p>“Give her a chance, El," he reached forward and flicked the elevator car back to life, exhaling relief when it started back down toward Autopsy. “He cares about her.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The warm nostalgia of her sitting opposite in the diner the next morning wasn't lost on him and especially not when Elaine made a happy sound in her throat, casually leaning into the end of the table. "Been ages since we've seen you, sweetie."</p>
<p>The repetitious memories of her smiling up from the other side of the exact same booth hit him like a baseball bat to the back of the head. He instantly saw only brash white outside the existence of her grin and the forward lean of her shoulders as she half lowered her lashes, lifted her jaw and sighed. "Boy, did I miss your pie, Elaine."</p>
<p>"You want some breakfast, though? Coffee &amp; eggs?" the other woman asked.</p>
<p>Just like with any other concussion, he felt a sway of nausea when Elaine fell back in love with her smile just as fast as he had. He wanted to warn her off, wave her back and remind her that the charming blonde with the pretty whiskey eyes had left them <em>both</em>, long ago. That he hadn’t been alone in missing her and it wasn’t fair that she should be able to just waltz back into their lives and knock their brains loose with the width of her smile and her inherent sensuality.</p>
<p>She wasn’t gonna beat them down bloody, then expect to just sit in the same old seat with the same simple (but gorgeous) smirk and be forgiven by a sweet "Yes, please."</p>
<p>"Want your fruit too?" <em>Fuck</em>. But apparently she was, and with just a nod of agreement. Because there was something so naturally comforting to the triangle they had made, something so mathematically and perfectly balanced by their proximity to each other. “Jethro?”</p>
<p>He remembered it repeatedly being one of the best moments of his day, them sharing breakfast. Though, maybe traumatic memory loss would have been preferable. “The usual. Extra toast because she’s just gonna end up eating - ”</p>
<p>“I know, I got it,” Elaine interrupted.</p>
<p>Of course she knew, they <em>all</em> knew.</p>
<p>Jack was going to eat just over half her eggs, most all of her fruit and half his toast. Without asking. And also with grape jelly.</p>
<p>“We both knew Leon was going to do this,” she offered after Elaine had left the table, her arms on the table top but crossed as she leaned forward against them. She was cold and he slapped down the urge to offer his suit jacket. Petulant… <em>maybe</em>. She would warm up once the coffee and food arrived. “Make us work together.”</p>
<p>Gibbs huffed a laugh through his nose and met her eyes, gamely matching the way she was watching him. “No, I really thought he would give you the case.”</p>
<p>“I’ve never been the favorite, Gibbs, despite what you may think. I’m just an old friend.”</p>
<p>“That what you are?” he asked, his voice purposely dropped in both volume and timbre, eyes on her face to see her reaction.</p>
<p>Apologetic. And bittersweet. Exactly the reaction that would make it far too easy for him to forgive her, to go soft and lenient.</p>
<p>“We’ve kept in touch,” she defended.</p>
<p>“You and Leon?”</p>
<p>Jack gave him a tired look, already fed up with his sharp snark and attitude. “You and I, <em>jackass</em>.”</p>
<p>“Sure, just not in the last three months.”</p>
<p>“I deserved that,” she admitted solemnly, purposely curling back in the booth and farther away from any more accusations he could throw at her. Not that there really were many others. That one took up most any space he may have had saved for long-standing grudges. “Can I still have toast?”</p>
<p>He shouldn’t have been surprised by the question, or the teased tone of voice she’d used to ask it. Nor should he have been surprised by the quirked smile she gave him when he squinted at her in response. <em>Jesus</em>...</p>
<p>What actually surprised him was how goddamn weak he still was in regard to deep brown and begging eyes. “When have I ever said no?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>He was pleased to see that Torres, of all of them, seemed the least impressed or charmed by her presence on the fairly straight forward gambling-gone-wrong case. The younger man had sized up their (previous) relationship quickly and silently, without prying questions or commentary. Since the moment he’d first heard her voice at the dock, while ankle deep in sand, he had kept his assumptions to himself and focused on the case rather than being mesmerized by the beautiful blonde who had no reservations about just sitting directly on his boss’s desk or hogging the plasma’s remote.</p>
<p>That was <em>exactly</em> why Torres was riding shotgun. Ellie would have asked plenty of questions and Tim was too close to it already. Nick just let him exist without having to hash it out.</p>
<p>“I can see what you saw in her.”</p>
<p>Well… there went <em>that</em> theory.</p>
<p>The younger man continued scrolling through social media on his phone, head down, as though the conversation was happening outside of their immediate proximity. It was as close as Gibbs was going to get to silence, especially considering Bishop had probably begged Nick to pry some information out of him. This way he could say he’d brought it up without lying to her - which was likely best. They were all terrible liars when it came to each other.</p>
<p>“The back of her is one of the last things I saw that left any real impression.”</p>
<p>He had absolutely no idea why he’d shared the information, why he had answered at all. Thankfully Torres took the response in with a couple small but weighty and thoughtful nods before squinting up into the spring morning. He leaned forward in his seat in search of the sun and Gibbs appreciated that he was obviously considering his words carefully before he said them.</p>
<p>“Don’t seem to <em>really</em> mind seeing her from the front again.”</p>
<p>Point taken... He’d fallen back into an investigative rhythm with her without putting up too much of a proverbial fight. Every time she made an executive order he just stared down his team until they followed it, no commentary otherwise. He had let her lead them in tossing possible motives throughout the office, her focus squarely on the work. The fact she so tightly held that focus while in the office had been what had made it easy to lean into the partnership.</p>
<p>They’d always made a pretty good pair when it had come to getting cases solved. Even if it had just been in his living room at three in the morning, pictures and papers and notes everywhere. She’d always been ready for the challenge, the puzzle, the late nights and long hours without sleep...</p>
<p>“I never mind seeing her from <em>any</em> direction,” he chuckled finally, letting himself exhale into sharing with the younger man. Torres grinned as he turned his head and opened his eyes again, matching the quiet laughter with a mostly silent version of his own. “That’s always the problem, Nick.”</p>
<p>“Never asked her to stay?”</p>
<p>He’d asked her to get the hell off his desk, earlier. She had been happily perched on the end of it and reading part of a case file outloud to Tim and Ellie across the MCRT space, one leg crossed over the other and one of her heels just barely dangling from her toes.</p>
<p>“Never wanted her to feel obligated.”</p>
<p>She’d deserved better, he figured. Not that he would say that aloud. They had disintegrated slowly and what may have looked like combined apathy to an outsider had always been more two matched sets of personal fears and insecurities immobilizing them both. They hadn’t not wanted to be together… but they had come apart anyhow.</p>
<p>“<em>C’mon</em>, Gibbs,” Torres drawled, turning his glance back down to answer the text that had just beeped in and grabbed his attention away. “She’d never let that answer fly.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Six hours later and they had three separate suspects but only one in custody. He’d sent Ellie into interrogation with Torres while McGee had staked out another suspect’s apartment. Instead of joining any of them he had promptly gone hunting for coffee, fighting back a migraine and desperate enough for anything that might even resemble it. Remembering that they’d had some available for one of the family members they'd interviewed earlier had him walking smack in her as he swung into the conference room. He hadn't assumed that anyone would be in his way and did his best to catch her as the both stumbled slightly forward.</p>
<p>“<em>Jesus</em>, hon.” Her hard exhalation near coughed out of her as she tripped forward, her hand catching against his sleeve hem. He grabbed at her to keep them both balanced and upright. His hands curved her hips fast, instinctively sliding up against her waist and tugging her back as she nicked the toe of his shoe with a heel.</p>
<p>He had <em>mostly</em> managed to ignore the satin smooth smell and feel of her since breakfast.</p>
<p>Having her in his hands again set him back to that breathless moment that morning when he’d first watched her walk into the diner in a pencil skirt and heels. Her hair had been down and loose this time, beautiful blonde waves that softened her eyes and radiant smile.</p>
<p>It had gotten him instantly hard in contrast.</p>
<p>Because some things damn sure didn't change.</p>
<p>“Coffee,” he grumbled as an explanation, feeling her fingertips brush the back of his hand once they had both straightened, her silent sign that he could let go as she stepped out of his touch.</p>
<p>She nodded and waved toward the carafe near the window before she turned her attention back to the large conference table. “I think I left some.”</p>
<p>She had spread a mass (or mess) of paperwork out over the table in expanding arches, radiating out from directly in front of her and half covering the large table. Gibbs half watched her as she leaned over the table, picking up one of the smaller scraps of notepaper and waving it rhythmically as she frowned over where it belonged. She rose upright again, the paper pinched up between her thumb and forefinger, a frown marring her face and her other arm curling around herself.</p>
<p>It had been ages since he’d watched her create a timeline, since he’d really gotten to see her work up a case. It had been a long while since he'd gotten to enjoy watching her process the information, categorize and calculate it. She looked tired, eyelashes drifted lower than they had been all day, her face pale and skin gone ashen.</p>
<p>“You eat since this morning?” he asked as he poured himself a cup.</p>
<p>Her whole face went pinched and sour but she didn’t look away, head tilting before she leaned back down and slid a couple reports farther apart. She victoriously dropped the paper she’d been holding to bridge between them. “Did you?”</p>
<p>"How's med school going?"</p>
<p>"I finished ages ago. Flying colors. Very little alcohol." The staccato rapid fire of her answer had him arching a brow, taking a taste of the coffee and near shrugging at how lackluster it was. At least it was still caffeine, theoretically. Hopefully it would edge back the ache that was massing just behind his eyes. "I was a wholesome girl."</p>
<p>He ignored the urge to roll his eyes and just matched her upward smile instead. "I meant - "</p>
<p>"You meant my <em>daughter</em>… Faith always did like you. She's a good judge of character.” She winked after saying it and he momentarily questioned the ribbing she was giving him, wondering if it was genuine or just a form of deflection. “I don’t think it’s any of them.”</p>
<p>Right… probably both. She was obviously focused on the case. Or she didn’t want to discuss her daughter yet. He couldn’t blame her either way. “Three foolproof suspects and you don’t like any of them for it?”</p>
<p>She grinned downward at the table, not even looking up as she answered. “Are you surprised?”</p>
<p>“You think it’s the brother. It’s always family first with you.”</p>
<p>"She's engaged, ya know? Faith. Did she tell you that?" She looked up and across the table at him, her glasses half down her nose and sliding. She reached up and shoved them up into her hair with a sigh before giving him a more inviting smile, watching his surprise take him. “I know she calls you.”</p>
<p>She did, sometimes. But not in the last six or seven months. He shook his head, quick negation. "Really?"</p>
<p>She nodded, both arms crossing against herself even as her jaw went up in his direction, "Wanna come to the wedding?"</p>
<p>Gibbs snorted before he took half the lukewarm coffee down his throat, swallowing hard. "Pity invite?"</p>
<p>"No, I need a date who will intimidate the in-laws," she quipped. "It's next year, you have plenty of time to back out."</p>
<p>"Sure, yeah. Of course."</p>
<p>Jack blinked at him, seemingly taken aback by his quick and sure response. He just took another drink of coffee, shrugging as she stared at him in slight surprise. Another charmed smirk took hold of her and she blinked a couple times before inhaling, shaking her glance away from him and back down over the papers she had laid out.</p>
<p>“This was always easier with you." The gentle admission was matched by the way she waved one hand over the table. “It used to come to me faster.”</p>
<p>“The motivation to beat me to the answer probably had something to do with it.”</p>
<p>She simply shook her head. “I think it was more likely the sex.”</p>
<p>He just barely managed to not cough his coffee down the front of his shirt and considering how blithe her smile was when he looked up and gave her a patient half grin? <em>Thank Christ…</em></p>
<p>“I don’t think Ellie likes me much.” She had smirked even as she'd said it, changing the subject and seeming almost proud of the younger woman for her suspicion. Gibbs finished off the last of his coffee as he headed back around the table, keeping the cup handle looped by two fingers as he got close to her again. She'd tracked his movement around to her side, head half turned into it. “Seems some daughters are harder to win over than others.”</p>
<p>He just swallowed, nodding once before he sighed and set the cup to the table. “You need to eat, Jack. I mean it.”</p>
<p>"I will if you will," she agreed, reaching back to catch his sleeve and stall him up as he started to leave. She grabbed up a file from her left and handed it back even as she kept her shoulder to him, not committing to saying goodbye. "<em>Wait</em>, take this home."</p>
<p>"Profile on the brother?"</p>
<p>"What can I say? I'm predictable." Her smile was also incorrigible, its usual intrinsic shine going incandescent despite her obvious weariness.</p>
<p>And he had never gotten <em>out</em> of love with that glow - there was no need to fall for it again. He just had to hold on, hold back, and hold still until she left again. "Go home, Sloane."</p>
<p>She tipped her head as he squeezed her bicep with his right hand, just barely leaning into the touch. "I will, thank you."</p>
<p>It was the honeyed '<em>thank you</em>' that did him in and pulled him closer, his fingers rubbing the silken material of her shirt into her arm. He inhaled slowly, steadily swallowing the smell of her as she turned her head closer and matched her breathing to his own. He stayed like that a few moments, enjoying the slide of her shirt under his thumb and the flex of muscle beneath that. Years before he would have put his face in her hair, kissed the side of her head, drawn the blonde aside to claim the side of her neck with his mouth. He almost did a combination of the three. <em>Almost</em>.</p>
<p>He wasn't going back there.</p>
<p>They couldn't make it through everything all over again and <em>still</em> manage to be friends.</p>
<p>"G'night," he mumbled, stroking his hand down and off her sleeve, feeling more awkward and fumbling with her than he had in years. Even as her fingers brushed against his he forced himself to leave.</p>
<p>"Good night."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By three in the morning he’d given up trying to get more than forty or fifty minutes of sleep at a time. He'd given up trying to get any sleep at all, knowing it wasn't happening. He had made coffee in near dark, the mostly full moon lighting the kitchen enough for him to see.</p>
<p>While it was brewing he looked over the profile she had sent home with him, familiar with its direct wording and stacked theories. She had a habit of layering evidence, the least important factors creating a wider foundation for what he always considered her "gotcha" conclusions. She had always had a habit of saving the most pertinent information for last.</p>
<p>She hadn't necessarily convinced him of guilt when it came to the victim's brother. But he realized, as he poured himself a fresh cup of biting coffee, that she had made him question the entire case - including all the conclusions he had made in regards to their other suspects.</p>
<p>If she was right then only one of them may have still been involved and even then, only as an accomplice.</p>
<p>He hated how thorough she was when building a profile because it made her extraordinarily hard to prove wrong. And if she was so sure that she had worked up such a significantly detailed assessment…</p>
<p>He had to start over entirely and from a completely different angle.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was fumbling through one of the unpacked boxes in the corner of her bedroom when her cell rang, trying to find the ultra pale blue sweater he had always liked, the v-neck with long cuffed sleeves.</p>
<p>It was barely past six in the morning, and she expected it to be Faith leaving work early, giving up the search and pressing up onto the bed from the floor.</p>
<p>She certainly hadn't expected it to be him calling early for the second day in a row, her whole body flopped across her bed as she answered. "You're lucky I'm terrible at unpacking. I can't find that sweater you like."</p>
<p>"The one with the collar?"</p>
<p>The one with the collar? <em>What ‘one with the collar’?</em> "The blue."</p>
<p>"The light blue one?" he questioned, voice going soft with unbidden pleasure - or at least something like it. She could hear it in his words, she didn’t need to see his face to hear how appreciative his features had probably gone. It was still a lovingly familiar tone of voice, one that had most often lived in her kitchen and his, his basement, living room or bedroom. "You still have that?”</p>
<p>Jack just grinned to herself, letting her chin set into her palm, "What's up, Cowboy?"</p>
<p>"I read the profile," he admitted, sounding awfully tired.</p>
<p>"Yeah? You think I’m right?” She scrambled upright, pushing herself to sit cross legged and leaned back into her pillows.</p>
<p>"No, but I don't automatically think you're wrong either. Convince me."</p>
<p>"Diner at eight?" she asked, voice lighter and more breathy than she had meant it to be. He<br/>didn’t answer her question, though, just hung up instead, leaving her staring at her phone.</p>
<p>She had known that she'd missed him, of course, but she hadn't realized how much until she'd spent two days back in his presence. Even his subtle attempts at keeping some distance between them didn’t help the fact that they were two people who couldn’t entirely ignore each other, who couldn’t <em>stay</em> apart if they were in the same room together. They got drawn into each other’s orbit as a matter of physical and scientific inevitability, not emotional choice.</p>
<p>She had known she’d missed him... She hadn’t understood how much it would physically ache to have the proximity without the known intimacy.</p>
<p>It had been inevitable she would see him again… But to be so close to him before she had her new kitchen painted or even all her pots and pans unpacked?</p>
<p>She’d known it would hurt them both a little, her coming back. She hadn’t realized that it was actually still just the same ditch of hurt dug down between them, just getting deeper and deeper the closer they came back together.</p>
<p>At some point they were going to have to actually <em>talk</em> about it - something neither of them had wanted to do even <em>before</em> she’d left.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s got an alibi, Jack.”</p>
<p>“Contrived, convoluted,” she argued, pacing the front of his desk. He was purposely avoiding her eyes, his glance down and roaming the profile he had obviously brought back in with him. It had landed back on his desk after making the rounds through his agents and she knew it was just a foil, a tool he was using to deflect. "<em>Coincidental</em>, even."</p>
<p>"She's not wrong, Gibbs. It doesn't add up. Nobody can guarantee the timing."</p>
<p>Her eyes lifted while her jaw stayed low, one of the arms she’d had wrapped around herself waving in Bishop’s direction. She couldn’t keep herself from grinning as she shrugged between the two of them. "See? And she doesn't even like me."</p>
<p>"I never said - "</p>
<p>"We have three perfectly legitimate suspects,” he interrupted, cutting into the younger woman’s defensive argument with mild impatience.</p>
<p>He matched Jack’s glance and gave her a squint, watching her grin even wider in reply, her ploy having worked. Drawing Ellie out that way had been such a simplistic social tactic and he was surprised that Bishop had walked into it so willingly. Eleanor obviously wanted to like her - and who wouldn't? He was inescapably infatuated with her himself.</p>
<p>She had shown up in boots again, boots and jeans and a sweater that wasn’t blue but a rich hunter green instead. The sleeves were long, bunched at her elbows and the fabric so soft looking that he hadn’t dared get close enough to even brush against it. Her watch was too big and sliding on her wrist and she kept unconsciously shaking it around to the front.</p>
<p>“All with motive but not the means psychologically, I don’t think."</p>
<p>Tim scoffed from across the bullpen and Gibbs lifted his head in half surprise at the sound, watching as the younger man leaned back from his desk and relaxed into his chair back. He was warmly at ease with Jack’s presence and Gibbs felt a smirk tip his lips as he followed their interaction. She had always been sweet as hell with McGee, teasing and taunting with DiNozzo and Ziva… but always affectionate with Tim. "You don't believe that any of them are capable of murder? That's pretty narrow minded for you, Sloane."</p>
<p>"If any of them? Newgate," she answered quickly, naming the suspect that he had already pinned as likely the most distrustful of the bunch. She nodded as she circled a finger over McGee and then leaned forward conspiratorially, resting her hand on the top. She gave up a half smile and a shrug. "Press him hard. Don't give an inch. He'll crack if he knows anything."</p>
<p>"Torres, you do it. Take Bishop,” Gibbs ordered, feeling her watch him with interest as they both gathered their things.</p>
<p>He noted all three of the younger agents speaking with silent glances and glares to each other, their entire conversation telegraphed across the room and it wasn’t as though he and Jack couldn’t follow. He just stared them down in response, brows up in expectation as Nick and Ellie both grabbed their things. By the time they had cleared out and McGee had busied himself at his desk she was squinting at him, lips pursed in what looked like annoyance.</p>
<p>"What?" he matched the look she was giving him one hundred percent.</p>
<p>Her lashes did that slow dip, her features all taken up by incredulity. "You've been grumpy all morning."</p>
<p>"I'm working, Jack."</p>
<p>"<em>Uhkay</em>,” she drawled out, rolling her eyes at him. "I'll be downstairs. Ducky is letting me use his office."</p>
<p>"You saw Ducky?" Now <em>that</em> wasn't fair... And the fact he even felt that way for a moment had him even more annoyed - though more with himself than her. There was no legitimate reason for him to be upset with her for visiting with the older man but it damn sure got under his skin. It fed the fire of his frustration like a sudden rush of oxygen and he felt himself suck in a breath.</p>
<p>The longer she was so deep within his personal space, the more often he could see and smell her… the harder it was to pretend that he didn't still want her back. The harder it was to ignore that letting her walk away had been one of his greatest mistakes of the decade.</p>
<p>Hell, DiNozzo had told him as much eight years before…</p>
<p>
  <em>"What the hell're you doin', Boss?! Just call her.”</em>
</p>
<p>"Well, not yet. I'm on the way to his office. Care to join me?"</p>
<p>He felt himself unintentionally flinch at the idea and turned away from her to keep from leaking any other emotion her way. Instead of responding he grabbed his half empty coffee cup and stepped around the desk end, aiming for the back elevators and away from how warm and hazy her hair looked resting on the softness of her sweater. He could still hear her sigh from nearly five feet away.</p>
<p>"I'm gonna assume that's a 'no'!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You look defeated already, Jacqueline. It’s only been a few days.”</p>
<p>He was right, and she felt about as crushed as she likely looked, especially in his presence. It was easier to be soft and vulnerable with him, to be genuine when it came to her emotions. Ducky had always been an emotional warren, a safe little burrow for when she’d been feeling scattered, lost. He had always just let her emote without judging her and she appreciated that normalcy as she tossed her bag onto his leather couch and headed right for him.</p>
<p>“He always wins, Duck. You know that,” she murmured, leaning fully into the hug he offered her. She kissed against his cheek brightly, more than once and just to make him laugh.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t say <em>always</em>. He’s had his share of defeat.”</p>
<p>“I guess you’re right.” Jack sloped her hands on his shoulders, smiling as she noted his age and the way it had worn him thinner, smaller. He still looked spirited, though, and especially with the way he was grinning at her. She used the flats of her palms to smooth his jacket, her smile growing wider with affection as she took in the crisp white shirt and the exquisite houndstooth bow tie. His jacket was a slate color, matching the tie perfectly and she met his eyes, his smile. “You look awfully handsome today.”</p>
<p>“Well, I thought I might take you to lunch before you get too involved here. We can catch up.”</p>
<p>The smile she gave him was absolutely unavoidable, fingers catching into his jacket and giving a tug of affection. “Are you kidding? I’d be honored.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How was lunch?”</p>
<p>He heard the huffed noise she made while she waited at Ducky’s printer, both her hands in her pockets as it spit out paper after paper. He’d missed seeing the back of her, though. Especially with such a casual tilt to her hips as she lifted her right hand and brushed her hair out of her face. She still didn’t turn, even as her head went to the side and he caught sight of her profile. “I wasn’t going to turn down the chance to spend time with him, okay?”</p>
<p>“Just a question, Sloane.” Well, it may have been a slight dig. <em>Slight</em>. It hadn't been intentional, more… reactionary. For as much as his mood had improved over the afternoon he was still feeling pretty irascible. He was trying to cultivate some patience, though.</p>
<p>“I’ve missed his perspective.” She finally turned after grabbing up the last of the papers, shuffling them straight in her hands as she moved back toward the nest she had created around the couch. There were papers scattered around, coffee, her laptop and bag and notes. "You've been avoiding me today."</p>
<p>He <em>had</em> been avoiding her at first, sure, maybe definitely. But then work had settled him, balanced him, busied the other hours of the day and distracted him. He had cut the team loose nearly an hour before and when his stomach had started grumbling at him he had realized that she’d been missing in action. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and he’d barely eaten much then, listening to her theorize on the case and swilling coffee instead.</p>
<p>"Been busy. McGee and I went back to the dock, back to the house," he offered with a nod, purposely keeping the words gentle as he shifted her notebook onto the coffee table and took a seat.</p>
<p>He felt her eyes on him as she tipped her head, looking mildly surprised. After a moment of warily studying him she shrugged into his calm demeanor, settling back onto the couch. "Anything good?"</p>
<p>"Dropped some stuff with Kasie. She should have updates tomorrow."</p>
<p>"I'm at McNair tomorrow. Zero seven hundred," she shook off, setting the papers in front of him on the table. He ignored them at first, staring her down instead.</p>
<p>The fact that she was still in the Reserves had been open knowledge between them but she'd never in the preceding days mentioned having to report for duty so soon. Reporting to McNair meant she'd likely be teaching or training fresh PsyOps recruits and also completely unavailable for seven or eight hours a day, at least.</p>
<p>Gibbs felt his face darken, "You're on duty this weekend?"</p>
<p>"You'll have to call if you need me. I'm on til Monday afternoon." She nodded as she put her fingers to the papers she had just printed. "Take these. You'll wanna file them with Leon once you close. Just call me and I'll file them on my end."</p>
<p>"CID case reports?"</p>
<p>"That way I'm not holding you up once you wrap the case," she explained with a nod, her body relaxing forward so that her elbows pressed her knees. Her head turned, eyes a paler color than he had expected and her voice as soft as her sweater. "I know you. Two more days, tops. You're close."</p>
<p>He couldn't help the glare that was rising over his features. "Why push Vance for the case if you knew you had Reserves this weekend?"</p>
<p>Her proud smile faltered at the question, mouth going slack as she turned her head down. He watched her hand come up to catch her hair behind her ear as she avoided looking at him. "<em>Jethro</em>."</p>
<p>"<em>What</em>, Jacqueline?"</p>
<p>She shook her head and still refused to look up, her swallow so hard that it was audible. "You know damn well."</p>
<p>"Not sure I do, Jack. You show up just to ditch again?”</p>
<p>“That’s not fair," she demanded, voice striking stronger and clearer than expected. “We’ve discussed this.”</p>
<p>“Have we? <em>You</em> left.”</p>
<p>“Because you didn’t want me to stay.” She had lost some of that strength, her words thrumming but quieter than they had been. “I hate coming back to this. It’s always a fight when we’re face to face.”</p>
<p>Gibbs swallowed, felt his throat constrict on him slightly. “Why come back?”</p>
<p>“I missed my family,” she snapped, her body suddenly electric with energy. He watched her stand in quick frustration, stepping away from him and toward Ducky's desk. One of her hands lifted to rub against her face and he knew she was crying. "<em>All</em> of it."</p>
<p>All he wanted to do was haul her ass back onto the couch and kiss her until she promised to stop crying.</p>
<p><em>That</em> was the problem.</p>
<p>"I'll call you tomorrow night, let you know what we find," he offered lamely, standing as he watched her nod acceptance.</p>
<p>She wasn't gonna turn back around.</p>
<p>And he wasn't going to make her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Agent Sloane not coming?” Ellie prodded as soon as he’d gotten off the elevator, not a flicker of shame at the intimation she laced into the question. He didn’t entirely blame her considering they’d shown up at the same time the two days before. Still, the kid was already pushing him and he hadn’t even gotten his jacket off. Gibbs just kept walking, letting her fall in with him and grunting a lame ‘<em>Good morning</em>’ to all three of them as he moved between their desks.</p>
<p>It made him unnecessarily edgy whenever they were all there before he was, when they all beat him into the office. He had barely slept most of the night, though, exhaustion finally pinning him against his couch cushions at about four in the morning. Knowing her and her usual schedule that would have been just shortly before she’d gotten up for an early report time. He, however, had ended up rushing his way through the morning after waking later than intended.</p>
<p>Tim looked disappointed as he fiddled with the plasma’s remote and then dropped it to his desk. “Seriously, is she not coming? We have a surprise for her.”</p>
<p>They had a surprise for her. For <em>her</em>.</p>
<p>“Lieutenant Sloane is currently on duty at Fort McNair,” Gibbs told them succinctly, turning the corner of his desk and setting his coffee to it without sitting down. “But your <em>actual</em> boss would love to see - ”</p>
<p>“Sloane’s still Reserves?”</p>
<p>He wasn't at all surprised by his senior agent’s question. Tim had met her years ago - in uniform and angry as hell. The very first time he had ever introduced McGee to CID Agent Sloane she’d been in desert BDUs and accusing him personally of being an ‘incredibly rude son of a bitch’. McGee had met the Lieutenant before he’d become accustomed to the agent side of her but Torres had only met the woman on the dock, dressed in jeans and a CID vest and looking more ‘government official’ than Army grunt.</p>
<p>Nick’s eyes lit up as he stood, a smile starting to curve his lips as he spoke. “That woman wears a uniform? Like, for real?”</p>
<p>“At McNair? Probably teaching?” McGee smirked, shrugged a shoulder, and slacked his chair back. “Oh, yeah. Service uniform and beret, likely.”</p>
<p>Coulda been, probably. Uniform jacket and hardware, skirt and heels, hair tied back and beret perfectly placed. She’d always been impeccable about her ASU if she was teaching a class. She would have been in fatigues and boots if she’d been field training, though, and he’d honestly never decided which he had liked better on her… He couldn’t entirely blame Torres for the sudden glitter in his eyes. Jack in uniform was a pretty enticing mental picture.</p>
<p>“<em>No</em>,” Nick’s voice pitched upward as he leaned his palms onto his desk, hands flat and the growing grin so bright on his face that even Bishop laughed from across their office space. “Please, <em>God</em>, call her in.”</p>
<p>“You will not call her regarding this case until after fifteen hundred, Monday afternoon. Any of you,” he cut in, just barely swallowing his own smile at their combined reaction. She was a beautiful woman… He wouldn’t mind seeing her in uniform again himself, despite all their issues. “Clear?”</p>
<p>“Well, Gibbs,” Ellie smirked as she grabbed up the remote to the plasma and turned toward it with more dramatic flourish than usual, clicking it and bringing up a photo of the victim’s brother. He rolled his eyes, knowing that it likely meant Kasie had connected them with actual physical evidence. “Then you get to call her and tell her that she was right.”</p>
<p>He had walked <em>right</em> smack into that one, face first. He’d <em>never</em> live it down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>To his credit, they had <em>both</em> been right. Not that he took all that much pleasure in it.</p>
<p>The victim’s brother had been working along with one of the other three suspects, the one that he had pinned early on as the most likely to be involved. She had known as much - it had been why she’d told Nick to lean on Adrien Newgate so hard. They had both of them in custody and he had just finished watching Bishop cooly crack the brother in interrogation, proud as hell, when his phone beeped at him.</p>
<p>He stopped in the hall, flipping it open and squinting to read the miniscule text. ‘<strong>Crack the case yet?’</strong></p>
<p>He had hated to admit that after having her nearby for a few days… he’d missed her presence, her voice.</p>
<p>He considered answering, tried to decide what he would even say… Then he considered calling her back, just telling her that she’d been right over the phone so that he could go home and wallow in his basement.</p>
<p>He wasn’t so sure he wanted to wallow anymore. He wasn’t so sure of anything - most especially anything to do with her.</p>
<p>He closed his phone and pocketed it instead of calling, checking his watch before heading back to his desk to grab his jacket and keys. The kids could handle transferring their suspects to Metro for intake and finishing up the final paperwork. He had one more thing to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You gonna come in?” she asked as she nodded up the drive, pretending not to notice how nice the overcoat looked on the six foot stretch of him. “Or you just wanna glower at my front door all night?”</p>
<p>Gibbs squinted at her as one shoulder shrugged, a disposable coffee cup in the opposite hand. He lifted it, one finger rising to point toward the small porch on the front of the bungalow style house. A frown took him hostage as he let his head tip, the whole length of him relaxed back against his truck where he had obviously been waiting.</p>
<p>Jack turned her head to follow in the direction he was pointing, blinking as she shrugged. “What?”</p>
<p>“If you think that porch is level then all ten months together were an educational waste.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I learned plenty,” she countered, feeling bittersweet about it as she fixed her grip on her leather briefcase. His head perked up a little but he stayed relaxed, lounged against the truck door as he gave her an obvious once over. "And was longer than ten months for me."</p>
<p>His perusal was cut short when he realized what she'd said, eyes snapping up from her waist to meet her knowing smirk. "What?"</p>
<p>"We'd met three months before, remember?"</p>
<p>And she had absolutely fallen for his stupidly beautiful schoolboy smirk within minutes of telling him what a complete jackass he was being. She had never told him how hard her heart had stuttered against her ribs as he’d chuckled and nodded his agreement. That supposedly aloof <em>bullshit</em>…</p>
<p>"You wouldn't even give me the time of day, Sloane," he answered, using his elbow to push off the truck and step forward, aiming toward her rather than the porch.</p>
<p>"You let DiNozzo hit on me,” Jack said, lifting a quick shoulder in defense as she moved up her lawn, him stepping along beside her. She softened a little when she saw him wince his head down. "So handsome then. Your eyes apologized every time he said anything even remotely - "</p>
<p>"He was just making Ziva jealous." He waved it off, jaw ducking lower as he pulled away from meeting her eyes.</p>
<p>"It wasn't Ziva he was trying to make jealous, Jethro."</p>
<p>She paused near the door and watched him nod wordless acknowledgement before he looked up again, "I just came to tell you that you were right."</p>
<p>“About the case?” Jack asked back quickly. “Guess we won’t need that sex after all, huh?”</p>
<p>He met her smirk with his own, laughing through his nose at her frank assessment. As soon as she saw that he’d responded with humor her smile went full and bright in relieved amusement. She couldn't help herself with him, not so long as he kept smiling.</p>
<p>“Did all right without it this time.” He shrugged closer.</p>
<p>“Yeah, but whatta shame,” she sighed, making sure it was loud and exaggerated between them before she nodded toward the house, feeling a little wistful under the renewed shine of his smile. “You want some coffee, though?"</p>
<p>He looked at her with a silence that said more than he probably would have liked. One brow had gone up and his jaw had slacked, lips softening before his tongue went across them. His eyes darkened, grayed and cool as he studied her face, her mouth. It wasn't nearly as predatory a look as it had once been. It had more ache to it now, more weight and age, more knowledge of repercussions.</p>
<p>He still wanted <em>more</em> than just coffee, though. That was plain on his still handsome face. His physical cues had always been strong and solid with her, clear and near impossible to misinterpret. She realized suddenly how close he had managed to get himself without putting her on guard.</p>
<p>"We were both right, y'know?"</p>
<p>"Now or then?" she asked softly, half distracted by his nearness at her side, his hand unexpectedly at her back.</p>
<p>He huffed a sardonic laugh as she unlocked her front door. "Does it matter?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She still made coffee perfectly, right on the edge of black and bitter, dark and aromatic without being too thick on his tongue.</p>
<p>And she still ruined it with a half pound of sugar in her mug too.</p>
<p>"Stop looking at me like that. I can feel your disappointment."</p>
<p>Gibbs grinned, letting his eyes drift down the back of her, glance resting on her ass long enough for him to remember the feel of it rubbing back against him in bed. He appreciated the cut of the uniform skirt - though he had preferred the black one from a couple days before. Either way he got to enjoy another temporary love affair with her calves.</p>
<p>"Eyes front, Soldier."</p>
<p>He took the cup she offered, her voice thrumming with unreleased laughter. Gibbs exhaled slowly, his lungs releasing their tension as she gave him a half smile and then moved across the kitchen. She set her own cup to the table before lifting her hands, pulling the pins from the twisted up blonde and letting it loose down her shoulders as she dumped them aside. The maroon beret came down next, gently set to the table beside her coffee and both hands went back to shake her hair out.</p>
<p>It was absolutely intentional, he knew that much.</p>
<p>She knew <em>exactly</em> what she was doing.</p>
<p>"<em>Jack</em>," he breathed out, focusing on her coffee cup, then the Airborne 4th flash on the beret. It was so familiar to him, so known. Just the movement of her as she turned and picked her coffee back up, wary expectation on her face.</p>
<p>"I don't wanna fight anymore," she told him, her voice nearly as quiet as his had been but direct, inarguable.</p>
<p>"I just came over to - "</p>
<p>"Yeah, you've told me." She took a sip from the mug, watching him over the lip of it before swallowing and giving up another half-hearted shrug. "What now? Act like this didn't happen? Completely separate lives thirty minutes away from each other?"</p>
<p>It didn't sound the least bit plausible, spending each night alone in his basement and wondering what she was doing, who she was with, if she had eaten enough, slept enough. He'd had similar thoughts when she <em>hadn't</em> been thirteen miles from his place and the habit had taken forever to break. It wasn't one he necessarily wanted to pick up again.</p>
<p>"Of course not," he shook off, his cup hot against his palm and reminding him to take a drink. Anything to stall the way her eyes were darkening. Her makeup was so subtle, barely there, barely covering the weariness that darkened the skin beneath her eyes. He knew he was partly to blame for it, for the slow sadness that had seemed to overtake her brightness over the past few days. She’d been all shocked sunlight and humor on the dock and since then he’d managed to darken her features and demeanor more and more. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t noticed.</p>
<p>The longer he’d kept her at arm’s length the more morose she had become with him. And she was a stubborn woman, one who would keep trying over and over again. The definition of insanity was attempting the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result? Hell, then insanity was no match for Jacqueline Sloane’s good natured tenacity. At least not usually… Maybe his passive rejection had started to tip the scales.</p>
<p>Maybe he’d sent them tipping in the wrong direction. Maybe he’d made the second greatest mistake in a decade.</p>
<p>"I should just go back to California," she shook off quietly, fingers fiddling nervously against one of the buttons on her ASU jacket. “I never should have… It doesn’t matter.”</p>
<p>
  <em>"I should just go back to California."</em>
</p>
<p>It had been the exact same sentence, the same conglomeration of words and in the same order from the same mouth that he loved, the one that used to be so gentle on him.</p>
<p>The last time she had said it with an expectation, a hanging hope that he would stop her, that he would beg her not to go… and he just hadn't. He hadn't been ready to be the reason she stayed in one place. He shouldn't have been, not then.</p>
<p>
  <em>“I should just go back to California.”</em>
</p>
<p>Now she just said it with such cool finality, though, like a foregone conclusion and a looming regret both at once. There wasn't even the illusion of hope this time. Her voice had gone detached, her usual heat and happiness buried.</p>
<p>That's what made him shake his head as she abandoned her cup on the table and tried to move by him. She was wrong this time... "I'm gonna change."</p>
<p>"<em>Don't</em>," he caught against her hip with more force than he'd meant, palm gripped against her left side. His thumb pressed into her pelvis as she looked up at him shrewdly, eyes thin in response to the heavy plead in his tone of voice. He set his cup down as well, abandoning it in trade for being able to face her.</p>
<p>"Don't change?" she asked, her body swaying nearer to him, though he didn't think she really realized she was leaning in. She hovered closer, seeming to hold her breath just as still as he did. He purposely lifted his hand into the dual implication, the double question she'd asked. His fingers traced upwards until he caught the lowest button on her uniform jacket.</p>
<p>"Don't go back," he murmured, turning his jaw inward and aiming his mouth near her temple. Her body, her movements, they <em>hadn’t</em> changed. Even just the angle of her jaw as she lifted her head back, baring her throat… She moved the same with him, his memories of her taunting him as he turned his thumb against the lowest button on her jacket, pressing it open. "Don't leave again. Don’t change either."</p>
<p>Her sigh was long and carefully made, brown eyes finally meeting his as he looked up to make sure she wasn’t about to deck him for trying to half undress her. "Gibbs, I can't - "</p>
<p>"I can't either," he interrupted, knowing what she was going to say as both his hands met the next button up. He felt her shoulders go down more than he saw it, felt her body just barely press into the slow undoing. “We gotta both be all in.”</p>
<p>She just watched him wordlessly, her patience seeming unlimited as he held her eyes and opened the uniform jacket at once. She blinked slowly, exhaling through her nose and loosening her shoulders as his hands came up to brush against the stacked ribbons. His thumb rubbed across them before he lifted one corner of his mouth in a silent smile. One brow arched and he watched her hold back against answering his smile, her hands responding instead. He felt her fingers catch and pull against the overcoat he still hadn’t taken off. They were matched and stilled and he felt her give a hard tug before lifting her jaw. Gibbs looked up at her again, meeting her eyes and finding questioning on her face as they studied each other.</p>
<p>Just the one question, really, but he asked it before she could. “You in, Sloane?”</p>
<p>“Why do you think I came back?” Jack murmured, an almost laugh between them as she blinked but still didn’t move.</p>
<p>He watched her as he drew his fingers up the lapels of her jacket, followed the rise of her smile with his hands. She nodded as he reached for her face, palms catching her jaw up as he stepped into kissing her and he didn’t even let himself breath before putting his mouth to hers, sinking into the way she moaned and dug her fists in his coat. He got his hands into her hair and was suddenly ambushed by a cavalcade of good memories, most of them involving her laughter, her smile. All of them tasting like sweetened coffee and <em>her</em>.</p>
<p>Both his hands slid deeper into the blonde while she curled up into his chest, his left palm stroking down her shoulder after a moment to pull her closer. She had tucked herself up inside the confines of his coat, wrapping her arms around his chest as her tongue teased his. He felt his groan more than he heard it, didn't realize he was making the sound until she laughed into the kiss then broke them apart.</p>
<p>"I owe my daughter fifty bucks," she hummed along his jaw, her smile audible. “You're paying half."</p>
<p>"What was the bet?"</p>
<p>"This," she laughed, her hands catching his face as he sloped his other hand down her side, catching her closer by the waist. "She bet me we would do this as soon as we saw each other again."</p>
<p>He half shrugged, blowing off the accusation. "Three days."</p>
<p>Jack smirked, turning her head enough to kiss him again, her approach purposely soft, light. “Yeah, she said it would be less than a week.”</p>
<p>“She always has been a know-it-all,” he said through a grin, feeling her snug up tighter.</p>
<p>“I’ll have to call her, tell her that she was right.”</p>
<p>“In the morning,” he whispered, lowering his face to one of the places on her throat he had missed the most. “Worry about it in the morning.”</p>
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